There's a million reasons why I should give you up
by shelivesfree
Summary: Padmé struggles to deal with Anakin's frequent departures for weeks, even months, at a time during the Clone Wars. It's in these moments she contemplates the practicality of their marriage. Grief-stricken with loneliness, she stumbles across something she wrote a long time ago... a list of sorts. The find brings about a whole host of emotions she'd rather not deal with.


_There's a million reasons why I should give you up..._

xxx

"Another excellent speech, Padmé," Bail Organa praised her as they walked together out of the Senate building. It had been another meeting regarding the war, and Padmé had presented a bill, causing for a cease fire and democracy to resume. A handful of her fellow Senators, including Bail, agreed with her, but there were others, like Halle Burtoni of Kamino, who were strongly against the notion. So far, the majority of the Republic were still in favour of the war against the Separatists, and Padmé's support only consisted of a small few.

"Thank you, Bail." Her voice was weary, just like she felt. "Hopefully I was able to sway a few more to our cause."

He hummed in agreement as they were approached by Riyo Chuchi. The Pantoran senator fell into step beside them, endlessly commending Padmé on her efforts to stop the war. Padmé listened to the chatter half-heartedly, for her mind was elsewhere. The large HoloNet screen that loomed above the centre of the city had caught her eye and she watched the footage, absently, Senator Chuchi's persistent babble in her ears. It was nothing new, endless updates on the war, footage from the battlefields of outlying star systems. Latest siege updates and messages from the Chancellor. Nothing new.

Until there was. Breath hitched, she paused and watched the HoloNet, transfixed by the image of her husband. He was a blur, dancing elegantly in circles whilst slashing droids to pieces, but she knew his form anywhere. For a moment, she almost forgot to breathe as she watched in anxious terror. The message that rolled along the bottom read:

 **SKYWALKER AND KENOBI TO THE RESCUE AGAIN.** _The Republic's favourite team successfully by-passed a Separatist blockade on the planet of Lothal, delivering much needed aid. The people, whilst under siege, were given food supplies and weaponry, in order to combat the Separatist forces occupying the planet. During the battle, General Skywalker sustained critical injuries and the team was forced to depart early, however, with enough supplies, Lothal was able to liberate themselves of Separatist occupation. After sustaining significant damage to their craft, the heroes return to Coruscant for much needed repairs and respite. Medical droids have insisted that General Skywalker will make a full recovery and will not be returning to the field for several weeks._

An unsettling image suddenly flashed upon the screen and Padmé clutched a hand to her chest, as she saw Anakin lying unconscious on a stretcher, Obi-Wan beside him looking concerned. _Oh, Anakin._ All of a sudden, the reassuring words on the HoloNet ceased to exist and all she could focus on was her husband's face, his left eye bruised, his lip cut and bleeding, his shaggy hair a mess about his head. _This_ was what kept her awake at night. Seeing him like this. She saw him like this in her dreams almost every night, coming back to her bruised and battered and broken, the young man she had married slowly slipping away from her each time.

"Padmé? Are you alright?" A warm hand rested on her shoulder and she started at the sudden, unexpected touch, relaxing when she realised it was Bail. His face was narrowed in concern.

Nodding her head and giving him a small smile, she replied, "Yes, I'm fine."

Bail removed his hand from her shoulder, but remained sceptical. Padmé did her best to reassure him, but her attempts were useless. "Is something bothering you?"

 _Yes,_ she wanted to scream, wanted to tear her hair out and stomp her feet and cry because there was _so much_ bothering her. Her husband, her brave, brilliant husband, was unconscious and wounded and she couldn't be there to comfort him, to smooth out his hair, to hold him in her arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay. It was going on three months since she had last seen him, their longest separation to date since their marriage and now he was returning to her, _critically injured_.

Of course, she couldn't say what was truly on her mind, so she simply sighed. "This war is taking its toll on everyone," she told him sadly. Here, on Coruscant, Padmé was desperately fighting her own war. Many star systems were losing faith in the Republic and it was up to the Senate to convince them to remain loyal. Of course, it was a very different war to the one that Anakin was fighting; a much more real and terrible war, full of horror and casualties, but Padmé knew that both were equally important. Even if the Republic won the Clone War, they would need to ensure that all star systems remained loyal, in order to prevent further Separatist rebellions in the future.

All Padmé wanted was for the war to be finished. It had drawn on for two years now, and a resolution was far from in sight. War never accomplished anything, this she knew from her time as Queen. People would continue to take revenge on the other for lives lost, and it would ensue until they forgot what it was they were fighting for. Only diplomacy would end war. Yet, most of her fellow senators have failed to understand that.

However terrible the war was, there was a far more important, albeit selfish, reason Padmé was so against it. The answer was there, flashing unconscious on the HoloNet. _Anakin._ Her marriage to him was difficult to say the least. The constant separation was heart-wrenching, and, at times, Padmé thought she would go mad with longing, or grief. He would return to her, only for a precious day or maybe a week if they were lucky, before he would be torn away from her again by his duty to the Jedi Order.

Duty. _Oh_ , how Anakin hated that word. Whenever Padmé told him of their duties, reminded him that regardless of their feelings or their marriage that their duty to the Republic was more important, he would grow terse and angry. She could picture it now, his gloved fists clenched, blue eyes narrowed, jaw set, mouth a thin, grim line. And then he would seize her in his arms and kiss her until her lips were bruised and tell her, " _nothing is more important than my love for you."_

The memory caused such intense emotions to surface and she felt tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. She turned her head away, not wanting to lose her cool in front of other senators.

"Padmé," Bail began, his voice soft with concern. "We've been friends a long time. I consider you part of my family." At his words, Padmé smiled, blinking up at him kindly. The Alderaani senator had taken her under his wing when she first arrived on Coruscant as a newly appointed senator for Naboo. Although only ten years her senior, she regarded him as a sort of father figure, a beacon of hope and guidance in her life. He was someone she could turn to, someone she deeply trusted and he had so much faith in her and her cause.

"Ten years, to be exact," she reminded him fondly.

Bail nodded, though his expression was sad, his eyes downcast. "I can sense when something is troubling you" he continued. "What I mean to say is," he paused, heaving a great sigh, before meeting her gaze, "I'm here for you. If you want – if you need to talk about it, or anything, my door is always open."

Padmé beamed up at him. Such a kind and thoughtful man, he was, so much like her own father. She knew he meant well, and even though she couldn't tell him what was on her mind, she reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you, Bail."

The two continue in silence, making their way to the elevator. Before they could ascend, the door was stopped and the Chancellor entered, positioning himself next to Padmé. She tensed at his presence. Lately, she had grown less trusting of the Chancellor. She believed that the powerful granted him by the Senate had gotten to him, and he wielded it as though he had wanted it all along. The thought troubled her.

"Senator Amidala, Senator Organa," Palpatine greeted him courteously as they made the climb towards the residency floors.

"Chancellor," Bail inclined his head respectfully.

With what Padmé thought was a wry smile, Palpatine turned to her. "Another fine speech, my dear," he congratulated her, though there was a hint of malice in his tone, not enough for it to be noticeable to Bail, but Padmé picked up on it easily. It made her skin crawl. No, she definitely did not trust this man. She had told Anakin this many times, but he insisted she was simply being paranoid. The two of them had grown close over the duration of the Clone War. Palpatine constantly praised Anakin, fuelling his ego, making him feel important, and Padmé could only watch the chain of manipulation unfold miserably. There was a motive behind it all, she was sure of it, but what that motive was, was unclear.

"Thank you, Chancellor," she replied, her voice sharp and cold. "Hopefully I could persuade some of the senators to call for a ceasefire."

Palpatine sighed. "My dear, you know that I am all for stopping the war, but democracy must remain. It is up to the majority to decide what must happen."

 _If you are truly with my cause, you might help me stand up to Senator Burtoni,_ she thought bitterly, but she kept her mouth shut and simply nodded politely.

The elevator doors opened and the Chancellor made to leave, bidding them well. As he turned to leave, he added, "Oh, Senator Amidala, I'm sure you've already heard the news about your friend, General Skywalker." Her heart stopped for the smallest moment and she froze, eyes wide. The Chancellor smiled, but it was a cruel smile. "Don't worry, my dear. I'm sure he'll be back on the battlefield soon, as good as new."

The comment was trivial, on the surface, a mere courtesy, but Padmé could sense a deeper, more sinister meaning behind it. _"I own him, he's mine."_ She swallowed and nodded, flashing him a fake smile. "That is good to know, Chancellor," she replied. He left and she shuddered, earning her another concerned glance from Bail, but he said nothing. Although her _intimate_ relationship with Anakin was kept secret, it was well known that they were good friends.

"Are you sure you're alright, Padmé?" Bail asked as he walked her to her apartment. They paused outside her door and she nodded.

"I'm just tired. I think I might lie down for a few hours."

Bidding her farewell, Bail left her and she entered her room, where she was immediately greeted by C3PO. She dismissed him and sank down onto her expensive, leather couch, letting her eyes drift closed for a moment. Tired. Yes, Padmé was tired. Her entire body was weary and lacked energy. She was tired of pointless senate gatherings that never resolved anything, she was tired of the war, she was tired of having to pretend that she was coping when all she wanted to do was run away, back to the Lake Country, where there were no worries, no war, no _duty._ But mostly, she was tired of being apart from Anakin.

Seeking comfort, she rose from her seat and glided over to her dresser, opening the third draw. Lifting a secret panel at the back, she smiled softly as she retrieved the object she was looking for. It was Anakin's Padawan braid. He had given it to her when he had been Knighted, symbolising that he was hers, eternally hers. A surge of affection coursed through her and she closed her fist around the braid, letting what it stood for calm her anxiety.

Whenever she was lonely, which happened to be more often than not lately, she would take out his braid and hold it. It was a part of him, and having it near her was almost like he was _there_. Sometimes she would even sleep with it, just because it had a soothing presence. Of course, it was nothing like having his actual, solid flesh beside her, but it was all she had. It reminded her of their time on Naboo, two years ago, when they had been incredibly happy, and all that mattered was them and their steadfast love for each other. Oftentimes, Padmé wished for nothing more than to go back to that happy time. She would never have let Anakin go.

As she went to close the drawer, she noticed a small, triangular square of white peeking out from underneath her clothes. Curiously, she pulled it out, and her expression grew into a fond smile of recognition as she realised what she was holding. It was a list. A list she remembered making on her way back to Naboo two years ago, accompanied by a newly recovered Anakin. It was a list of reasons why she should give him up.

Her finger traced over the small ridges made from her pen on paper reverently. She remembered this day; Obi-Wan had warned her to stay away from Anakin, to keep their relationship strictly friendly, that Anakin was prone to get attached and it would only hurt him. And, like the pragmatic person she was, Padmé had decided to make a list, to weigh up the pros and the cons of being with Anakin.

Intrigued, she sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning the page carefully, admiring the elegant curves of her first reason made her laugh at the rational nature of it all.

 _1._ _He's a Jedi._

Of course, it was the most glaringly obvious reason. The Jedi Code forbade attachments of any kind, and marriage was considered the highest breach. It was this that made their relationship such secret. If it came to light that Anakin was married, he would be expelled from the Jedi Order. That was something she couldn't ask of him, even though it killed her to have to keep it secret from everyone, even the people she cared about. Her own family were unaware of her marriage.

Padmé wanted a family. She wanted a home and a family and a simple, married life with the man she loved more than anything else in the galaxy. Of course, such dreams were impractical with the war, but even after the war was over, would she and Anakin ever have that? Would their lives ever be simple? It was a question she didn't know how to answer. Being a Jedi meant everything to Anakin. Could she ask him to give that up for her? For her selfish needs and silly, whimsical dreams? _Of course not._

 _2._ _He's fighting in a war._

She was surprised this had been the second reason her past self had brought up, yet she couldn't deny that had a drastic impact on their relationship. Not simply because Padmé was against violence, but because it would mean they would be apart. It had affected their marriage the moment he had left her on Naboo, re-joining Obi-Wan and the other Jedi to fight the Clone Wars. They'd had a precious three days together and then he was gone, not to return for six weeks. It had felt like a lifetime. A part of her felt like laughing as she remembered how distraught she had been. Six weeks was nothing. Not compared to three months.

The distance wasn't the only thing that plagued her thoughts. Every day Anakin risked his life for the Republic. He was reckless and impulsive and _stupidly brave_ , and as much as he was commended for his bold plans, it made Padmé sick. What if he never came home to her? There'd been so many close calls over the duration of the war; whispers that he had been killed, and each time, Padmé felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. Even know, when she knew he was going to recover, her entire body was shaking with anxiety at that possibility that maybe, just maybe, he _wouldn't._

Padmé liked to think she'd be able to handle it, that she would cope with his loss elegantly and gracefully. And it was sweet, almost, to entertain such notions, when she knew that she would _break_ if he ever… she shuddered, a sob wracking through her at the very thought. No, Padmé would not mourn with the air of a gracious queen. Anakin would want her to be happy and move on and _live_. But she wasn't sure that she could. How could she possibly enjoy anything knowing that he was no longer there, to come home to her? A universe without Anakin was a universe Padmé didn't want to live in.

Several tears stained the page in her hand, blotting out some words as they fell from her eyes. She sniffed stubbornly, shaking her head at how _emotional_ she had become and wiped her eyes, continuing to read on.

 _3._ _He has different ideals._

Again, this particular statement surprised her. Most of the time it never occurred to her how different they were, but when it came down to it, they were two different people. Anakin loathed politics. At times, Padmé wasn't even sure if he agreed with democracy. Sure, his heart was in the right place, but his childhood as a slave on Tatooine had made him distrustful of politics. _"The Senate never helped me,"_ he had confessed to her once, in the intimacy of her bed, away from prying eyes. She had been shocked by his statement, seen the flash of anger in his beautiful eyes, but instead of pressing him, she had simply stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, encouraging him, letting him know that he could trust her. _"They never cared to liberate me… or my mother. They spend all their time debating and making speeches, but nothing ever_ happens. _"_

Padmé could see his point, she really could. It irritated her too, sometimes, especially at the present moment with her own cause. But, she was a firm believer in democracy. The fact that there _were_ divided opinions meant that the Republic was still intact. She had expressed this to Anakin, trying to help him understand, but he was as fixed in his views as she was in hers. That much had been obvious while they were at the Lake Country, and he had been her protector. _"As long as it's good for the people, why does it matter?"_ That had been his response when she accused him of wanting a dictatorship. He still held that belief, even now. She knew he agreed with giving the Chancellor emergency power over the Senate, because it would mean action. The slow, careful deliberation of the Senate had always annoyed him.

Frowning, she continued reading, becoming more and more concerned. The more she read, the more she realised that maybe, just maybe, she should have listened to Obi-Wan's advice. She had married Anakin because he made her happy, but if she evaluated her life, she was anything _but_ happy. She was miserable and tired and lonely, so _incredibly lonely._ A part of her wondered, as it often did when Anakin was away, if she had kept her distance, would she be happy? It was a question she couldn't answer – or didn't want to. She loved Anakin. Of course she did. She loved him more than she thought was humanly possible to love another person. But love did not equate to happiness.

 _10\. He has trouble dealing with his emotions._

By this point, Padme was certain she hadn't made this list in any sort of logical order. Her handwriting had gotten considerably rougher, letters joined together so it was almost illegible. Yes, her husband was incredibly emotional. He felt everything so fully, he exuded passion and intensity and _life_ and she loved that about him. But, she also knew that it was one of his downfalls. He had trouble containing his powerful emotions, and they tended to overwhelm him and cause him to lash out. With a pang of pity, she remembered his tortured expression when he confessed to her how he had taken revenge for his mother's death. In a fit of rage and grief, he had slaughtered an entire tribe of people, men, women and even children. Although it had alarmed Padmé, it only made her heart yearn for him, because he had looked so lost and confused and guilty.

 _"How did you forgive me?"_ he'd demanded of her once, while they were fighting about being honest with each other, which was something they still had trouble doing. His expression had been so heart-breaking and all she had wanted to do was hold him. _"After everything I've done, how can you even bare to look at me?"_ He had gripped her shoulders roughly, tortured eyes burning into her soul and she had sobbed and clutched at him desperately and told him that she loved him. And then they had made love. It had been angry and desperate and rough, but when they were done, he had calmed down and he had spent the rest of the evening mumbling apologies into her hair. _"I don't deserve you._ "

Suddenly overwhelmed, Padmé scrunched up the list in her fist, letting her nails dig painfully into her palm as tears formed rivers down her cheeks. The despair, the grief, it was too much. She couldn't cope. How could she possibly be having these thoughts? How could she even dare to second guess her decision? It wasn't fair. It certainly wasn't fair to Anakin. She felt awful.

But it was true. Everything she had written in that ship two years ago was right. There were so many reason why she should have let him go, given him up, moved on. As much as she hated to admit it, she would have been saved a great deal of heartache if she'd listened to Obi-Wan.

Angry and guilty and emotional, she stripped out of her senatorial garb and slipped her blue nightdress over her head, letting the smooth silk cascade down her body. Still clutching the braid, she pulled back the covers and sank into bed, feeling so incredibly tired. Rest. That was what she needed. To clear her mind.

It was several hours later, the Coruscanti sky completely dark save the stars that dotted the velvety expanse, when she felt his weight shift next to her and then, a warm arm snaked around her waist. Heart constricted, breath hitched, she rolled over onto her side to see _him_. His face was cast in shadow, save for his eyes, which had caught the starlight and sparkled like chips of brilliant topaz. Her eyes grew moist as she regarded him.

"Padmé," he whispered, his voice infinitely soft and delicate and dripping with affection. His long fingers reached out, fondly tracing her forehead, the line of her nose, over her cheekbones, her jaw, brushing against her parted lips and she closed her eyes at the contact. It had been too long since she had felt his touch. With equal tenderness, she reached up to cup his cheek, smoothing the pads of her fingers over every inch of his face, delicately tracing the bruised skin around his eyes, the roughness of his cheeks, indicating that he hadn't shaved. They lay there for several minutes, familiarising themselves with each other, not needing to speak, expressing their devotion with simple, gentle caresses.

Padmé noticed that his hair was longer than she had last seen it, and she let it slip through her fingers, while his thumbs gentle smoothed along the column of her throat. When their lips finally met, sweet and delicate and lovely, Padmé couldn't escape the sob that bubbled into his mouth and she pressed herself closer to his body, her hands gripping the side of his face desperately, as though she was afraid he was going to disappear. They broke away and rested their foreheads together, and Padmé could see that his eyes were wet, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

"Oh, Anakin," she cried in a strangled sob and he held her, tucking her head against his chest, resting his chin on her hair, as her hot tears rained against his bare skin. At that moment, she was possibly the happiest person in the whole of the universe, she was sure of it, and a tiny bubble of euphoric laughter fell from her lips. He was here. Her husband, her Ani. He was in her arms again, and he was alive and safe and it was _this_ , she realised, that made it all worth it.

The pain, the grief, the longing. It was nothing compared to the overwhelming joy she felt of being in his arms. It was always worth it. Padmé realised that she would wait for an eternity for Anakin if she had to, just to be able to hold him again.

His lips brushed against her hair and he hummed, "It's alright, my love. I'm home," and there was never a more beautiful phrase ever spoken, not even by the great esteemed poets from her home planet. Anakin outshone them all.

It suddenly dawned on her how silly she had been. Yes, there were many reasons that she shouldn't be with Anakin. But, she realised, her list had missed a most important consideration. She suddenly had an urge to create a new list, outlining the reasons she should _stay_ with Anakin, until she realised that it would only consist of one, simply phrase.

 _I love him._

And it was that fact that kept her sane when he parted from her again.

xxx

 _There's a million reasons why I should give you up..._

 _... but the heart wants what it wants._

* * *

 ** _A/N: If you hadn't noticed, this was inspired by the song "The Heart Wants What It Wants" by Selena Gomez. Because I love Anidala. Okay? Okay._**


End file.
